


The Royal Courtesan

by ProdigalEzplorer (Asguardian)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asguardian/pseuds/ProdigalEzplorer
Summary: Things hadn't gone the way Claude had planned. But it turns out, things weren't going as Sylvain had planned either. Maybe they could figure it out together. Or at least have a little fun on the way.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan, implied Sylvain/Felix - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Italics are when they're speaking Almyran. I just wanted to make that extra clear while reading :)

The war was over and he had lost. There wasn’t much need for the rest of the details. He stood at the top of the gates, quietly nodding as the prisoners of war marched sullenly back into Almyra. Edelgard had been lenient and not just executed his soldiers, so he extended her the same courtesy; Dorothea gave a small wave as she stepped into a carriage. Claude gave a jaunty little wave back as Hubert glared daggers at him.

The crowd of people returning stopped interesting him, the depression of losing once again taking its toll.

But then a glint of red hair caught his eyes amongst the returning prisoners, quickly covered under a hood. He squinted at the distant figure, curious if someone had managed to creep into his borders.

No matter. All of the soldiers were to enter his throne room for dismissal. If someone was trying to sneak around, he would certainly sniff them out.

" _ Thank you for your service. Please pass the throne one by one so I may look once more upon the faces of my most loyal. _ " Claude kept his eyes on the crowd, the hooded person stiffening sharply, staring at the floor. A fleeting grin passed over Claude’s face. Each soldier was granted a few kind words, touches on the shoulder, some even kisses to the cheeks. The hooded figure had waited until last, eyes to the ground, hood covering their face, posture timid as if wanting to shrink away.

"Didn't know you were the modest type, Sylvain."

With almost an audible crack, Sylvain straightened, flipping his hood off; a charming smile on his face, hands instantly up behind his head.

It looked like a carefree gesture between friends to a layman. Claude read it for what it was. Sylvain was nervous and trying to show he wasn't planning to put up a fight.

He quite literally had his hands up.

"Can't fool you, can I?"

There was a long pregnant pause where Claude kept his face carefully neutral. "No. You can't."

And while Sylvain's smile didn't fade, it did falter for a flash. "Been a while hasn't it? Crazy how everything turned out. Who knew you were tied to Almyra, right? Wild! What are you here, anyway? A Duke here, too? Hah! A double Duke! That sounds so-"

Claude lifted a hand and Sylvain ground to a halt.

"Why are you here?"

Sylvain deflated like a balloon. "I couldn't just die." The grin was still there, macabre and so far from meeting his eyes that Claude felt a spark of familiarity. That smile had been on his own face more than once.

"You realize that if Edelgard found out a Faerghus soldier- no, a general-" he groused, "Was just waltzing around free in Almyra, it would shred any hope of peace between our countries, right?"

Sylvain's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Claude, please," the smile was gone now. "I promised."

"Who did you promise?" Claude pried.

Hesitation flickered across Sylvain's face; he was weighing his options. The wheels were turning rapidly.  _ Can I tell the truth? _

They had played chess before. Sylvain had lost with a "stupid me!" before walking away. When Claude replayed the game in his mind, he could pinpoint the exact moment that Sylvain threw the game.

Felix had entered the library, glanced at Sylvain and turned sharply away with a sneer. When Sylvain left, he followed in the same direction that Felix had gone.

"Felix."

" _ Guards! _ " Claude barked, making Sylvain jump. " _ Take this man to a holding chamber while I decide his fate. _ "

"Claude, please!" he reached out before his arms were wrenched behind his back, hands locked into cuffs. He struggled some before another guard shoved him gruffly forward. "Claude-"

"It is Prince Claude to you, Sylvain. It will do you good to address me accordingly from now on."

For good measure (and to clear his head), Claude made Sylvain wait two days. Two days that he knew Sylvain spent sweating nervously in that holding room and not from the heat alone. He gave two raps on the door and entered. Sylvain snapped to a standing position in an instant and after a moment's hesitation, took a deep bow.

"Cla- Your majesty. I had hoped you would come-"

Claude held up a hand, expression imperious; Sylvain's face once again fell, pale and anxious. For a handful of heartbeats he let Sylvain panic.

A deep breath and then, "I got you good," He said with a wink. The emotions that whipped across Sylvain's face made him laugh. Maybe Sylvain would have stopped at confusion, but instead he gave a soft laugh, expression genuine.

It wasn't the first time Claude had found him attractive, that was for sure.

"But seriously," He grumbled, punching Sylvain's shoulder playfully. "What in the world were you thinking?"

"That a friend might want someone to play chess with again?"

"Hah!" Claude barked. "You know Hubert is alive and kicking. If I wanted someone to challenge me in chess, I would just see if he could pencil me in for a match."

"But we've only played one game, Claude. Maybe I'm better than you think," A Cheshire grin spread across his lips. "Care for a match right now?"

Echoing Sylvain's grin, Claude put a hand on his hip, waving the other hand in the air. "Ah, Sylvain. You can't charm your way through Almyra. Our customs aren't quite the same as Faerghus. The ladies aren't interested in a man like you, deceitful and guarded. They would rather someone straightforward... Strong..." He snapped his fingers, thinking of who fit the bill perfectly, "like Dimitri! Well before he-"

Sylvain snapped his fingers softly in return, "Before he snapped."

"Mm, yes... snapped... And then died."

The room got quiet, a cicada picking up its song outside to fill the silence.

"Well, anyway. This brings us back to you. I can't let you go free. I have no idea what you would do if I just cut you loose."

At that, Sylvain shifted his balance on his feet, a subtle nervous tick.

"I'm so fucking tired of killing..."

Sylvain's hands clenched, unclenched.

"But for you to live, I'll need an excuse to keep you close and make some sort of... example out of you, I guess..." Squinted as he thought, Claude stroking his beard. "Say, you trained to be a dancer, did you not?"

"Ye-es," Sylvain answered slowly, the question clear.

"Then congratulations, Sylvain. You're now a member of the royal courtesans."

Claude led Sylvain into the dancer's studio, grinning to himself. The memory of Sylvain "accepting his fate" made him a little giddy.

"Oh, if you had wanted me to dance for you Claude, I would gladly," a flirtatious wink, "All you have to do is ask."

He had laughed at the time and he laughed about it now, throwing the doors open.

" _ Hello, lovelies! _ " Claude called out in Almyran, everyone standing to attention. Before coming, he had come to the dancers group and explained his game. The dancer's had agreed enthusiastically, ready to play their roles gladly. It was why the normally rowdy group was acting so strict and formal right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sylvain's eyes flicker to Claude and then the group of people. This troupe spoke solely Almyran. Who knew how Sylvain had intended to sneak around Almyra with his limited Almyran and bright red hair. There would be time to find out in the future.

" _ As I went over prior, this is Sylvain _ ," he was purposefully speaking a bit overly formal to make Sylvain struggle to connect what Claude was saying to the handful of words he knew. " _ Please train him in some of our customary dances. Make him sweat. I expect for him to be dancing in your troupe within a month _ ," at this a few eyebrows raised and Sylvain's breath quickened at the sudden change in attitude amongst the group. " _ And finally... _ " Here he turned to shine the full intensity of his grin to Sylvain. " _ Have fun with him _ ."

The month passed quickly, after all, kings are rarely anything but busy. And Claude was well on his way to be king. But he made time for the dancer's troupe, especially the head of choreography who came to report on Sylvain's progress regularly.

" _ He is surprisingly hard-working. I think you scared him, _ " She quietly murmured at his side when he came to visit. Sylvain was in the middle of a tittering group of students, one kicking his foot to get him in a better position. A few heavily accented words of Almyran slipped out of Sylvain's mouth in reply and the girl smacked him over the head. Claude couldn't help but laugh and that's when Sylvain noticed he was there.

" _ Your majesty _ ," Sylvain greeted in Almyran, sweeping into a bow. " _ Good afternoon _ ."

" _ Good afternoon to you as well, Sylvain, _ " he replied in kind, keeping to Almyran. " _ Are you ready for your performance tonight? _ "

There was a pause as Sylvain processed what had been said and formulated his own reply.

" _ Yes, _ " finally escaped his lips. " _ I work hard. _ "

Claude corrected him gently. " _ "I've worked hard." Try again _ ."

" _ I've worked hard. _ "

He clasped Sylvain's shoulder and smiled. "You've seriously improved leaps and bounds in your Almyran. You almost sound like a two year old," said in the common tongue of Fodlan out of sympathy for Sylvain's effort.

Laughter bubbled out of Sylvain. "Better than I was before. All I had when I got here was,  _ "hello, yes, no, I am hungry, please let me see you naked." _ "

Claude's eyebrows shot up. "Who on earth taught you that?"

Sylvain gave him a salacious wink, "I'll never tell."

One of the dancers marched up and gave a sharp bow to Claude. " _ Prince, we need Sylvain to get dressed now. He is nothing but clumsy and will need serious help getting into costume. _ "

" _ Hey, kind not _ !"

" _ "Unkind." I will see you both tonight _ ," And Claude gave a small wave and a little wink of his own to Sylvain as the redhead was dragged away.

Claude settled into his throne, the last of his siblings, his brother Heydar was glaring daggers at his elaborate cushions. It was fine; the poison he had been using was subtle but built up in time. How lucky it was that Claude had a tolerance for the chemical, raising his own laced glass in toast.

After all, you can trust something if you both drink from the same container, right?

In a whoosh, all the candles blew out, the full moon providing the only light.

The music started, bright and lively; the troupe filtered out, scarves of black with red accents fluttering around their bodies.

Sylvain was one of the last to exit, but he was light on his feet, expression focused.

He was mesmerizing.

The man was pale against the dark colors, freckles noticeable even in the low light. His scars were stark in places, puckered skin on his arms, shoulders, a few on the glimpses of skin on his thighs. There was a particularly nasty looking scar underneath his ribs on the right side, something that was nigh fatal. He was aglow with smudged eyeliner and golden jewelry hanging from every limb. Every movement seemed like a brush stroke, intentional and artistic.

Was the performance perfect? Absolutely not. Was Claude able to look at anyone else other than Sylvain? Also no.

The performance was almost a complete blur, only Sylvain's body and flirtatious smile on his mind. He was leaning forward on his seat and even he could see he wasn't alone in the attention that was on Sylvain.

As the dancers passed by the princes to show their respect post performance, his brother grabbed Sylvain's wrist, though it snapped away almost instantly.

" _ I would happily bend you over a table and fuck you until you were too sore to ever butcher another of our dances. _ "

It was clear that Sylvain understood, but he pulled back, straightening his spine and smiled crisply, before saying loudly: " _ I don't speak Almyran _ ," in a more terrible accent than his usual.

His brother scowled, but let him pass by.

In front of Claude, he winked saucily at him and wiggled his hips a little, making the golden beads rattle.

He leaned in and in quiet Fodlan common whispered, "Now if you were to offer to bend me over the nearest table and fuck me, I wouldn't pretend to misunderstand you."

Sylvain drew away before he could grab him, sauntering away with the rest of the troup.

For once, Claude was unsure. Did he follow Sylvain? Did he wait for Sylvain to come to him?

While he debated his next move, there was a soft knock at his door.

" _ Your majesty _ ," Ahmed gave a sweeping bow. " _ The dancer from Fodlan is requesting an audience _ ."

Claude grinned, " _ let him in _ ."

Ahmed gave way to Sylvain, still clad in his dancer robes, the scarves flowing around him in hypnotic little twirls.

"So tell me, your majesty, how was my performance?"

"Amateurish. It lacked polish and clearly Salmah did not have enough time to properly train you in even the basics," the sultry look on Sylvain's face fell away to disappointment. But Claude took a few long steps forward and carefully took Sylvain's hand to drop a kiss on his wrist. "And I was entranced by every movement."

Those words brought the grin right back to Sylvain's face, copper eyes shimmering.

"For a second there I thought I had misread your intentions, your majesty," Sylvain replied, turning his hand in Claude's grasp and slowly raising it to rest on Claude's chest. "Does courtesan carry a different connotation in Almyra, or do all you want me to do is dance for you?"

"I wouldn't mind seeing a few more dance moves," Claude whispered in a hush, taking the invitation to draw Sylvain closer. "Sylvain. Listen-" he sucked in a breath, for a moment wanting to just take what was being offered and damn the consequences. "There are no royal courtesans. I just said that to see how you'd react. I wouldn't want you to feel forced-"

Sylvain laughed, loud and raucous, almost stumbling backwards if not for the grip Claude maintained on his wrist.

"I know there's no royal courtesans and that you just made that up. I'm trying to tease you," he gave a wink for emphasis. "I've been brushing up on my Almyran and let me just say, not all of my dance troupe was as good as Salmah at keeping your ruse a secret."

" _ Your _ dance troupe?" He interrupted, surprised to hear Sylvain already claim the troupe.

There was a sudden tension in Sylvain's body, his eyes darting away before back to Claude's face, regaining his confidence. " _ My _ . It may have been a facade, but let me stay in the dance troupe. Let me be your courtesan. If I feel confident in one thing in this life, it's my body. Besides," and Sylvain gave a little shimmy. "I'm interested in finding out what his majesty might like... Maybe you're interested in return?"

Claude gave a rare soft smile, briefly wondering if Sylvain would appreciate the vulnerability. "Alright, Sylvain. The nearest table is right there," he waved at his desk. "Bend over."

Sylvain lit up, eyes almost instantly going dark with lust. "Yes, your majesty," his hand trailed down Claude's chest, fingers ghosting away as he went lower; a wink and then he turned his back, allowing all of the jewelry to jingle and the scarves to fly. It was only luck that didn't get Claude smacked in the face with one of the drifting pieces of fabric.

He bent over the desk, spreading his legs, inviting, a glance over his shoulder. The small shorts they wore under the silks to provide a small sliver of coverage was only serving to highlight Sylvain's ass, making Claude swallow a little harder than necessary.

Claude took his time crossing the room, discarding a few items of his clothing as he walked. This whole outfit was far more showy than he would have preferred, but he needed the leaders of his country to agree he was the rightful king. While all eyes were on him, image mattered now more than ever. He shrugged out of his top, tossing it across the chair. Then he was just behind Sylvain, gliding a hand up his thigh to squeeze his ass.

A soft sigh escaped Sylvain's lips as Claude shifted his hand to get a better handful, grip finding the edge of a plug.

"Oh, Sylvain," Claude wasn't sure he'd ever gotten this hard this fast in his life. "Did you dance with this in?" He questioned as he pressed against the plug, a strangled noise escaping Sylvain's throat.

"There's no way I would have been able to focus on my feet with this up my ass... I did it after I saw your expression when I propositioned you."

"Oh, you are good," Claude muttered, Sylvain's breath hitching even before he pressed on the plug. It was clear he was trying to restrain the moan, Sylvain twisting slightly as if to escape the praise. "You like that? Being called good?"

"Cla- Your majesty-" Sylvain pleaded, legs shaking a little as Claude toyed with the plug through his shorts.

"You're so good, Sylvain. I bet you're going to feel wonderful, slick and warm around my cock. Do you want me, Sylvain?" He pressed his clothed election on Sylvain's back, feeling his full body shudder, Sylvain's breath completely interrupted for a moment before Claude was granted the nicest gift of all.

"Claude, please, fuck me. I'm already warmed up, I don't need foreplay, I just want your dick in me, come on, don't make me wait anymore-" And it went on.

Claude jerked Sylvain's shorts down, pulled the plug out with no sympathy and shoved a finger firmly inside. The cry that tore itself from Sylvain's throat echoed in the room.

"Patience will be rewarded, Sylvie." He whispered into his ear, arching his finger against that bundle of nerves. True to what Sylvain had said, he was prepared, wet and ready to be filled.

"Claude-" Sylvain's spine arched in pleasure, breath already in short huffs.

"I'm going to let that slide, Sylvie. But only because I like hearing you call my name. When your Almyran improves, I'll tell you a little secret," he switched languages then, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside. " _ I don't think I could stand to hear you say my birth name until we work on your accent _ ."

" _ Claude, please- _ " Sylvain croaked out in Almyran, a bead of sweat crawling down his spine. " _ Please, please, please- _ "

" _ I can't deny such an earnest request _ ," Claude continued in Almyran, slipping his fingers free. Sylvain had been thorough in his preparations, so he wasn't too worried that he would hurt him, but still...

He undid his pants, and slapped his cock against Sylvain's ass.

" _ You sure you're prepared for this _ ?"

It was clear Sylvain had run out of Almyran words when he began to beg. "Claude, if you don't fuck me this instant-"

The sentence was never finished, Claude lining himself up and pressing in, slow but relentless. Sylvain's hole was tight but still slick, whatever oil he had used clearly a high caliber.

There was a choked out sob, Sylvain's hole clenching tight. Claude stroked a hand down Sylvain's spine to calm him, hushing him softly.

"You're okay, you're doing such a good job, taking me so well."

Another whimper followed, but Sylvain relaxed, Claude finally bottoming out.

"There, see? I'm all the way in." He leaned forward and planted a kiss at Sylvain's neck, shifting inside him and making Sylvain moan again. "How does it feel?"

"Good, Claude, you feel so good. Oh, Goddess, please move. Please fuck me-"

Claude snorted quietly and straightened up, stabilizing himself by gripping Sylvain's hips. He gave one tentative thrust, and then took to pounding him with all his might.

"Claude, Claude-" Sylvain cried out, nails trying to find purchase, something to help him stay still while the pleasure washed through him. "Goddess, fuck, oh-"

He had never had such a noisy partner, but it was doing wonders for his self esteem, loving how Sylvain whined and cried and begged. Since it was such a boost, Claude decided that he would give something in return. Claude wrapped his hand around Sylvain's cock and began to stroke him. It was here that any words Sylvain might have ever known whisked away in a flash. The man was briefly stiff and then completely pliant, Claude's to use. All babbling and pleading ceased, just gasping breaths and a whine from the back of Sylvain's throat.

Claude was coming before he could even stop himself, groaning and spilling over into Sylvain's body. The orgasm was incredible, and he could feel Sylvain squeeze him, but the man did not orgasm.

He kept pumping on Sylvain's cock even as he struggled to recover his breath.

"Y-you don't have to keep doing that," Sylvain forced out in a raspy voice.

"You don't want to come?"

"I-"

"I want your pleasure, Sylvain. Tell me what you want." But Claude also let go of Sylvain's cock, sliding out, allowing Sylvain to slump against the desk.

"It's- I haven't been able to orgasm since," And he sighed like it really pained him. "Since the after Gronder."

There was a brief awkward silence as Claude opened his mouth and sucked in a breath.

Sylvain rolled over slowly and grimaced a bit at the expression on Claude's face. Come was trailing down his legs and he was flushed with exertion; his cock was hard and red, almost angry.

"Why?" Claude couldn't stop himself. It was clear Sylvain was struggling, but he just had to know. Besides, the glow from their fucking was fading quickly, if Sylvain didn't enjoy it-

"I assume it's some sort of post traumatic thing. Sex, like the act, feels good. Fuck, that felt," he cards his hand through his hair, erection finally flagging. "That was the best I've been railed in a damn long time." Sylvain sighed and gave a weak shrug. "But I still can't come."

Another silence filled the air.

Claude put up a finger and opened his mouth and Sylvain put a hand up to stop him.

"Yes, I've tried anything you can think of. No dice."

"He died at Gronder."

At that, any armor Sylvain had maintained shattered, a light tremor taking over. Neither had to define who “he” was.

"I couldn't do anything. I couldn't- I was already down, I couldn't!" Sylvain was shouting, but it was clear he couldn't tell how loud he was being.

Claude pulled him into his arms and hugged him tight. For a long time they just stood there, Sylvain clinging to him, silently crying.

Eventually he tugged Sylvain into the bed, laying with him, holding him close.

"Before the battle. He told me... Let's live. No matter what, we both live. We don't have to die together for some- some outdated sense of honor," Sylvain choked a little, voice so soft he could almost barely hear it. "If I don't... You- All you've done is... You have to keep living- you have to-"

And then he was still and silent. Claude wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep or not, but he wouldn't be silent.

"Then keep living Sylvain. For as long as you can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I haven't felt like writing much for a long time, so it's been fun to work on something again.  
> This is entirely self indulgent and ENTIRELY inspired by Cosu's art (check their twitter out: https://twitter.com/guessibetter )  
> Hopefully you'll enjoy it! I have intentions to continue it (so long as my life doesn't get too in the way haha!)


	2. Ascension

Morning came before either of them wanted, but responsibilities rarely gave a damn what anyone wanted.

What had been a soft knock was quickly escalating into a harsh, irritating sound.

_ "Your highness. Please, you are needed most urgently. The crown prince has fallen ill." _

Luckily, the noise had also woken Sylvain, but since the information was in Almyran, it was clear he did not fully understand what had been said.

_ "Hold on, I'm getting dressed," _ Claude called back, switching to Fodlan common for Sylvain. "The crown prince is ill. If he dies, you'll be in danger if you're in my rooms. Can you stand?"

Sylvain nodded, "I've survived way worse than a good fucking, Claude."

But he looked terrible, eyes red rimmed and kind of swollen. He stood, slowly, groaning a little as he did.

"Damn though, you did a number on me," He added with a small chuckle.

Claude smiled at that, grateful for the moment of levity.

Once Sylvain was standing, Claude quickly straightened the silken scarves on his body and located the missing shorts to give Sylvain his dignity.

"I'm going to have my servant escort you to your room. Lay low until I come find you, alright?" Claude was then busy trying to dress himself, deciding to dress down hoping it wouldn't be too obvious that he had just woken up.

"I've never been the one to have to do the walk of shame. Guess I'm going to have to rename it." Sylvain gave a saucy wink. "I'm thinking "the pride stride..."

"Sylvain," Claude chided, a small smile returning to his face. "I need you to hurry. Every minute we waste is another that those loyal to Heydar start trying to undermine my chances at the throne."

"I got it, I got it," he replied, clipping one of his earrings back on. "Call my escort and I'll go."

Claude opened the door, Ahmed's ashen face greeting his own.  _ "Your highness," _ Ahmed said with a quick bow.  _ "We must go-" _

_ "Yes, I know. Call for someone to escort the dancer back to his chambers posthaste." _

Ahmed gave him a quick nod and then called down the hall a few sharp words and another servant scurried into view. He issued a couple more abbreviated commands to the servant and watched as Sylvain stepped forward from the room to join the tittering servant.

Sylvain looked radiant, able to somehow look almost completely unruffled by last night's activities. Even the puffiness of his eyes had calmed somehow. Something was awry in how jovial and vibrant Sylvain was after sobbing his eyes out, but finding out what made him tick would have to wait.

"Stay put until I come to you, understand?”

"I'll be waiting."

And with that, the two turned their separate ways.

Heydar looked terrible, but he seemed semi-lucid; Claude had chosen this poison very carefully. Something that wouldn't look like poison as the effects had been slowly building. He could see by the face of Heydar's doctor that his chances were grim.

_ "Brother, I am here," _ Claude uttered, crouching down to be more in Heydar's sight.

_ "Ah, Khalid. It looks like you will outlive us after all," _ Heydar coughed, red splattering the hand that covered his mouth.  _ "We tried so hard to kill you, but you always managed to survive. I thought for sure I could outlive your schemes and get you myself, but you prove more tenacious than any of us gave you credit for." _

_ "I don't know what you mean," _ Claude replied, pulling his handkerchief to wipe Heydar's now limp, blood-covered hand.

Heydar laughed and the brutal sound of it reminded him of Dimitri's crazed cries on the battle field.

_ "Don't think I don't know this is you," _ Heydar choked on more blood and spit.  _ "I don't know how, but you-“ _ He weakly shook his finger at him. _ “You're responsible for this." _

_ "Why would I come to the bedside of a man I murdered? Heydar, you were always the kindest to me. Of all my siblings, I felt you cared-" _

Heydar growled, blood pooling in his mouth now.

_ "You are clever, Khalid. But my death will only bring you pain." _

It was the last thing Heydar ever said.

That night, Heydar died, throat filled with blood, eyes open and enraged. Claude stayed with him the whole time, wiping up his sweat, cleaning the smattering of blood, singing Almyran songs.

Heydar glared at him until his eyes went blurry and then glazed over in the shroud of death.

Claude closed Heydar's eyes, laid his hands across his chest, and stood solemnly.

_ "Announce a month of mourning. Everyone is asked to dress modestly, no celebrations of any kind." _

_ "Your highness. You are the last of the Almyran royal line... you are... king- _ " The doctor interrupted softly, the people in the room all shifting their posture ever so subtly.  _ "There will need to be a coronation-" _

_ "The time for formalities will be later. Right now, we mourn the great loss Almyra is suffering." _

Claude snuck back to Sylvain's rooms, knowing the last place he needed to be was his own chambers. The assassins last chance to make sure his half-breed hide didn't ascend the throne was now. They would kill him and hope they could find a cousin "of purer blood." He had already signaled a few loyal soldiers to camp the room. Anyone caught sneaking in or around would certainly be punished.

Of course, Sylvain was living with the dancer's troup, so a few of them whispered to each other has he passed through to the small private area that were Sylvain's.

Since a night had passed, Sylvain was back to casual clothing, plenty of his handsome chest showing. An Almyran child's book was in his hands, Sylvain squinting in concentration at the page. He jumped when Claude cleared his throat.

"Claude- Your majesty!" Sylvain quickly corrected, realizing his mistake. "Everything okay?" He questioned quietly.

"Heydar is dead," he said solemnly. Even if he had killed him, it wasn't something he took joy in. Heydar had tried to kill him numerous times and Claude knew that Heydar would have shed no tears if he had died. Still, it wasn't how Claude preferred to handle things.

Sylvain nodded, "Yeah?"

"Yeah... Sylvain?" He asked as he sat down on the bed, Sylvain shifting to give him more room. "Why am I sad?"

With a little chuckle, Sylvain gave a shrug. "He was your brother?" Sylvain paused for a moment, that expression he got when debating what to reveal passed over his eyes. "My brother hated me, and openly at that. All the same, when I saw him die, it wasn't... cathartic at all. It left me feeling sick and sad for months."

Claude hummed, "You killed him?"

Sylvain nodded slowly. "You?"

Clauded nodded as well.

"Every time we talk, I find we have more and more in common," Sylvain replied, smiling sadly.

Claude leaned over and kissed Sylvain.

The next morning came sooner than Claude wanted. They'd made out for a bit before Sylvain had let him know he wasn't up to anything else.

"Look, even if I dont get to climax, sex is fun. We can still do it," and he gave a cheeky grin. "Just not tonight?"

There wasn't much to discuss after that; Claude wasn't interested in pressuring someone for sex and he wasn't up to that tonight anyway.

At first, Sylvain had offered to take the floor.

"Ya know, king gets the bed..." but Claude refused, demanding they share. Somehow they managed to put two adult men on a one man's cot.

They woke up in a tangle of limbs, even if it did appear that Sylvain was hot. Like from the Almyran heat, not because he was sexy.

Anyway.

Claude tried to just disentangle himself, but as soon as he shifted, Sylvain snapped awake.

"Light sleeper?" He teased before he could tell Sylvain wasn't up to his usual jovial mask first thing in the morning.

Still, the man tried. "I've never been a terribly deep sleeper," another sad smile graced Sylvain's lips.

Just another riddle to solve.

Claude was told that yes, an assassin had tried to enter his chambers, but upon discovery, killed themself.

Whether they were killed or if they killed themself, well, no one would ever truly know.

Now that the first threat had failed, the rest would not be as bold. Blessed with a crest that allowed him to heal super fast had kept him alive so far, but there was no need to push his luck.

Still, he needn't worry about the rumors of where he was last night. He had every intention of keeping Sylvain as a "prisoner of war." The implications might frighten off other foolish attempts.

On that note, he penned a missive to Sylvain and passed it off to a servant to deliver.

There was only a month to spare and so much to arrange.

_ "We have agreed that you are the rightful heir to the throne and will bestow you the crown after Heydar's month of mourning has concluded. Since your father's passing, there has been much contention on who should ascend the throne," _ Mahdi intoned to the meeting of advisors, droning on and on. Claude was counting the days when he could disband this archaic practice. These old men were so out of touch with the day to day lives of the average Almyran that it just agitated Claude no end. Still, he needed them right now. He smiled and nodded at Mahdi's words, ignoring the barely cloaked insults.

_ “Thank you, Mahdi. It will be my honor to serve the Almyran people.” _

The plans for the coronation were set and Claude politely suggested a parade of mourning to round out the month. They would finish the route at the river and give Heydar's last rites. The next day, they would announce Claude's ascension to the throne.

But for now, almost the entire month had passed without seeing Sylvain even once. He knew that his "royal courtesan" was with the dance troup, practicing regularly. Claude had sent his missive with a simple request.

Get your ears pierced.

It would be a small but noticable mark that Sylvain belonged to him. Claude had secured a pair of earrings in his pocket, having heard in passing rumors of the foreigner with gold studs.

When he walked into the studio, they were practicing, Sylvain twirling with silks in his hands. His outfit was far more simple than his performance costume, but was still revealing in an alluring way. Sylvain's freckled and slightly tanned chest was bare for all to see.

But what caught his eye were the gold bars through his nipples. The gold ring at his belly button. Gold loop at his nose, a septum piercing. And of course, studs in his ears.

_ "Your majesty," _ Sylvain greeted in Almyran, sweeping into a perfect bow.  _ "It is good to see you." _

_ "And you, Sylvain." _ He felt almost paralyzed by how the jewelry glittered on Sylvain's skin.  _ "You look damn good. I would have been thrilled with just the ears, but-" _ Claude waved at Sylvain's whole body.  _ "That's hot." _

Sylvain blinked at him a few times. _ "Again? Slower please," _ he managed in Almyran, a curious smile on his lips.

"You look hot and I would like to fuck you as soon as possible," Claude switched to Fodlan common, not up to a lesson Almyran.

Sylvain grinned, shrugging as a sleeve of his outfit fell off his shoulder even further. "Then why don't we head out of here?"

His mind was short circuiting at how inticing Sylvain looked that it took a second for him to remember himself. He held out his hand and chuckled when Sylvain placed his hand daintily, mirroring Claude's courtly gesture.

As soon as he had Sylvain's hand, he tugged him forward, bee-lining for his own chambers. The doors had hardly swung shut when he was on Sylvain. He tipped up and kissed Sylvain, biting his lip a bit too harshly. Or maybe not harsh enough with how Sylvain groaned.

"They aren't healed, are they?" He asked, breaking away and gently brushing a finger above one of the gold bars through Sylvain's nipple.

"I may or may not have asked a healer to, ah. Speed up the process."

Claude growled in reply, promptly tweaking the bar between his thumb and forefinger, delighting in the cry it elicited.

"I honestly wasn't sure you'd go through with the ear piercing considering how Faerghus men are so conservative, but all of this," he let his other hand join in, flicking the nubs and watching the reaction jolt through Sylvain. "This is a very nice treat indeed."

"They were fun to get," Sylvain replied breathlessly.

"Hm, I'm glad." Claude stepped back and pulled the box from his pocket. "For you." He offered it, wanting to laugh at the frustrated flush that was on Sylvain's cheeks. But Sylvain's cute pout vanished at the earrings inside, emerald studs with golden bars suspended from them. Sylvain looked pleased with them, promptly trading out the plain studs with these instead.

"Like it?" He asked, giving his head a little shake so the earrings would jangle.

It felt like all Claude could do was laugh at Sylvain's antics, so he gave in this time as well. Sylvain was fun... More fun that he had with previous partners and that startled him a little.

"I do," Claude whispered, letting a finger trail the shell of Sylvain's ear. The reward was a lovely shudder. "You're so sensitive. I wouldn't have guessed that."

"It's a blessing and a curse. There was a time I could come almost on command… But, as you know,” he shrugged.

"I want to fix that. But I bet I can't do it one night. Or alone. Maybe when you feel more comfortable with everything, I can arrange for a therapist to consult with you."

Sylvain laughed. "I guess there's no point in running from my trauma anymore. After all, I officially have nothing to lose. If you ask it of me, I will do it."

Claude wanted to contest that, to argue that Sylvain should want to get better for himself, but he didn't get the chance. Lips met his and they were making out once more. Sylvain fondled him through his pants, so he returned the favor, noting something small and hard at the tip of Sylvain's dick. A cheshire grin spread across Sylvain's face, eyes hooded with lust.

"Oh, I went ahead and pierced that, too. Your healer was a bit annoyed at healing it, but they were definitely professional-"

"Strip. Right now."

With little fanfare, Sylvain obeyed, sliding off his loose tunic top before undoing the cloth belt. The whole outfit dropped to the ground, leaving Sylvain to shimmy out of his shorts. Once that was off, the golden ring at the tip of his hard cock was visible.

"Damn, Sylvain... This is," Claude flicked the ring and delighted in how Sylvain whined, bit his lip. "This is too fucking hot."

"I thought it could be fun..."

"Oh, it's going to be fun," and he dropped to his knees, grabbing Sylvain's hips before he could back away.

_ "Cla- Your majesty," _ Again in Almyran Sylvain fumbled at the formality. _ "Now, king. Below." _

_ "I decide what is beneath me," _ Claude declared in Almyran, aware Sylvain likely wouldn't know all of those words.  _ "Yes? _ " He asked in Almyran, looking up to Sylvain for permission, lips parted to make it perfectly clear what he meant. Sylvain granted him a quick nod and then his cock was being swallowed down Claude's willing throat.

"Oh Goddess-"

Claude enjoyed giving head. Most partners regardless of what they had down here seemed to enjoy when he put his mouth to work. He bobbed and sucked, delighting in very sound he tore from Sylvain.

"I want it so badly, Claude. It's like I can, ah, just feel it... out of reach," he sighs at Claude once more swallowing around him. Claude pulls out the stops, fondling Sylvain's sack, even fingering him, but his neck gets tired and Sylvain has not come. It's cute to head Sylvain babble and plead, but Claude can't help but want more.

He let's his lips "pop" when he slips off, looking up to Sylvain's flushed face; his eyes are still closed but his expression isn't exactly blissful.

"I really feel like I'm torturing you."

"You're really not. You have no idea how badly I miss sex. Just the intimacy of being pleasured, wanting to  _ give _ pleasure. It's always made me feel needed and I-" Sylvain swallowed, a weak shrug. "I like feeling needed."

Claude felt like he could crush something with how angry he feels at Sylvain's confession. Clearly Sylvain reads Claude's clenched jaw and sudden mood swing as Claude being angry at him.

"Oh, hey, it's no big deal. It's all I'm good for any-"

"Just stop right there." Claude scrambled to his feet, blood hot in his veins. "You will not finish that sentence now or ever. You are valued for more than just your body. Tomorrow, I'm sending a counselor to you and we are doing nothing sexual together until you regain your confidence."

"Claude, I'm not sure what there is to regain."

"Then let's build some for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! *insert something about how it has to get worse before getting better*:) I appreciate kudos and comments! I try to reply to all comments!


	3. Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~fuck me i changed tenses. I’m so sorry. I write this while on my pump breaks at work so I mostly just try to type it out really fast and then get back to work~~  
>  Thank you for reading ;A;

It's strange to have one person encompass so many incongruities at once: prisoner of war (he wasn't on your side, but he wasn't on her side either), 'fuck buddy' (you aren't fucking), royal courtesan (there is no such thing), and old friend (?).

Everything is happening all at once for Claude to invest too much thought into any of these thoughts.

A counselor that speaks Fodlan common is brought to Sylvain for regular sessions. Claude also hires him a tutor in Almyran to help Sylvain become more fluent. And lastly, the man dances. Dances and dances, body spinning and free in sensual ways that provide Claude some respite from his day to day.

They talk and cuddle alot. Sylvain discovers that Claude has a decent singing voice and goads him into singing often. Claude discovers Sylvain is a masterful tactician, even if he rarely wins the games of chess they play. Sylvain can cook. Claude can cook but better. The two fall into a rhythm not unlike the steps Sylvain learns for the dances.

He even teaches the troupe a few Faerghus traditional dances, though Selma laughs when Sylvain starts kicking, going lower and lower... somehow. Practically sitting but still managing to kick out his legs.

The whole class is entirely engaged in learning how to do the dance that some steal Sylvain away for private lessons.

Claude wants some private lessons of his own, watching those sturdy legs keep Sylvain somehow still upright.

But he keeps to his word, even when he finds Sylvain on his knees, spread open with two fingers pumping inside of him, moaning quietly.

"Am I interrupting?" Claude purrs, stepping into the room, closer to the bed where Sylvain is at.

"Your maj- Claude," Sylvain gasps, quickly righting himself and sitting on the bed. He maybe moves to fast because he quivers a little as he settles into place and he is definitely still hard. "I was just, uh, messing around."

"Obviously. Well don't let me stop you."

"I thought you said "we weren't doing anything until I was "better.""

"One, no one is ever done getting "better," it's always a journey. But, two, I said "we" not "you." Feel free to pleasure yourself. I'll just read a book over there," he threw a thumb over his shoulder to gesture at his desk.

"I don't see how this doesn't count as "us,"" Sylvain grumbles, but then smiles slowly. "You know, my therapist has suggested I try to be more honest and ask for what I need. So how about it Claude? If I told you I needed you, would you come join me?"

Claude put his hand to his chin in a mock debate. "How about we negotiate? I give you a little something and you give me a little something and we call it even?"

"What are you proposing?"

"You finger yourself, play with yourself, and i provide helpful suggestions as I jerk off over here. After, we cuddle."

Sylvain ponders it for a moment. "Not entirely what I was hoping for, but not a bad compromise. Besides, it will be fun to put on a show..."

"I promise, I will be a very interactive audience," Claude grins and waves a hand. "Get into a position where I can see your fingers and your face. I want to watch you come unglued."

A loud dramatic sigh echoes in the room, "Okay, your majesty." But he acquiesces, sitting and spreading his legs, keeping nothing hidden. "Like what you see?"

"I do," Claude replies, settling into his desk chair, carefully undoing his pants. "Care to show me what you plan to do with it?"

"I guess," Sylvain winks, moving his fingers back to where they were prior. He pauses before dipping a finger back inside, holding a moan in his throat.

"You know, I want to hear you too," whispers Claude, fondling himself through his smalls.

"Mm, Claude- I would far rather this be you," Sylvain hums, adding a second finger. "You filled me so well- I messed around with some people trying to-" he gasps a little, scissoring himself open. "Trying to see if maybe I just wasn't jerking myself right but, uh-" his hand finds his cock, encircling it and pumping slowly.

Claude is listening intently, but he is definitely no longer turned on and for once, all of his words are trapped in his throat. The visual was so hot, but what Sylvain was saying did not quite match.

"I tried everything- Fuck I even- I even-" his actions were turning angry, a third finger pressing in, the word vanishing as he moaned. Tears start pooling in the corner of Sylvain's eyes, his body shaking with strain.

"Sylvain, stop." Claude finds his feet finally, striding over and grabbing Sylvain's shoulders. "You're in Almyra. You are safe. Take a deep breath."

Sylvain chokes on a breath, still quivering. "Claude. Claude-" he lets himself go, releasing his cock and freeing his fingers from his hole. "I watched him die. Every time I get close, it's like I'm there again. I'm hearing him screaming and there's blood in my mouth-" Sylvain gasps, unable to control the tears now.

Claude pulls Sylvain into his arms, holding him tight. "Sylvain. He wouldn't want this for you. He wouldn't want you to be hurting yourself like this."

There is a long pause before Sylvain sucks in a quiet breath. "We promised, Claude. We promised to die together."

"And then he asked that you keep living instead. Everyone knew that Gronder was going to be brutal. He wanted to make sure you kept going. Even if that meant without him."

Sylvain shudders and burrows closer into Claude. "I've killed so many people. I've watched so many of my friends die... I feel so guilty that I'm all that's left of our little group."

"You shouldn't, Sylvain," he pets through Sylvain's hair and kisses his forehead. "Every day we keep living is a chance to do something new. To do something good. It's all you can do. Just keep going."

Sylvain sighs like he's about to argue, about to contest when Claude puts a finger to his lips.

"Not tonight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, you can argue with me all you want. But you're worked up right now, so let's put it on hold."

In the cutest gesture ever, Sylvain pouts.

"You know I'm right," Claude moves his finger from Sylvain's mouth to boop Sylvain on the nose. "Now go find something to wear to bed and get in here."

With a snort, Sylvain gets up and moves to find some clothes. "Hope you're ready for the cuddling of your life."

"Oh, how will I ever survive."

Therapy takes time. It takes time for Sylvain to open up, time to take the advice seriously, and more time to put the advice into action.

Claude supports Sylvain but if he catches him trying self sabotaging behavior (unfortunately usually in the form of trying to provoke Claude into fucking him), he is quick to gently rebuff him.

It isn't until Sylvain comes to him some few months later to apologize for his previous behavior that Claude starts to believe Sylvain has changed.

And maybe confess to himself that he's changed. He's been, for all intents and purposes, waiting for Sylvain. They cuddle, they spend time together, but no sex. And Claude hasn't sought it out from anyone else either.

Initially Claude wants to chalk this up to how busy he's been. But that isn't entirely true. There have been offers from some very attractive people, but he hasn't been interested in the same way.

More than ever, he wants to ruin Sylvain. Just watch the man come completely come apart for him.

Unsurprisingly, Claude is a very patient man. After all, maybe peace could still be achieved between Fodlan and Almyra. As long as hope existed, Claude would continue to fight.

Continue to wait.

Almost a year had passed since Sylvain came to Almyra when Claude finds him nervous, on the bed in the king's chambers.

_ "Hey, your majesty," _ Sylvain begins in Almyran. Between Claude, the dance troupe, and a tutor, Sylvain had improved greatly. _ "Listen. If you're interested. I'd like for us to fuck tonight." _

_ “Are you sure?”  _ Claude pauses, switching to Foldan common. He does not want to be misunderstood in any possible measure. “Are you sure? Did you therapist say this was a good idea?”

“She said I should try again, if I wanted to. I was able to masturbate a day or two ago and actually come. It was… It was really good, but you know…”

“Jerking off and fucking are two very different things.”

“Precisely,” Sylvain supplies, nodding his head. “So, are you in? No pressure.”

“I mean, I think we should enact a safe word system, just in case either of us gets uncomfortable. I’m thinking the color system is the easiest to follow… And remember in heated moments of passion.”

An abbreviated laugh pierces the air. “It’s been a while since I’ve had any sex that required a safe word. What do you have planned for me, your majesty?”

Claude laughs, “Nothing too exciting… For tonight at least,” and he winks in Sylvain’s direction. “But just know if you get uncomfortable in any way for any reason, please just ask me to stop.” He takes in a breath. “Please.”

“I promise Claude. I don’t… I don’t want to make you feel… used. I know how shitty that is and I would hate to do that to you again.”

“Alright, alright. Anything I need to know that’s off the table before we move on to the sexy bit, or…?”

“Mm, nothing I can think of. I’ll let you know though, if you do something I don’t like.”

“Then allow me,” Claude takes a few strides across the room, cups Sylvain’s face and leans in for a kiss. It doesn’t start chaste per se, but it certainly advances into something much more passionate quickly. Sylvain nips at Claude’s lips, slips a tongue in and makes out like he was being paid for it. His hand slides down from Sylvian’s cheek to his neck, shoulder, down his chest, and then to the edge of his shirt, jerking up on it to prompt it off.

Sylvain complies with ease, a laugh into Claude’s mouth as he does. Claude’s seen this before, but something about that scar makes him wonder. It’s big, like nearly fatal blow big. Maybe this is what Sylvain was referencing when he said he couldn’t save Felix.

Just another item on Claude’s list for another time.

However, Sylvain has no issues with his body, apparently, surging right back to Claude’s mouth and kissing him with unreserved passion.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for so long,” Sylvain whispers into Claude’s ear, carefully biting the soft flesh and pulling. Considering the earrings there, Claude is grateful for the restraint. “I want you inside of me, Claude.”

“Khalid,” He whispers before he can stop himself. Sylvain pulls back, staring into his eyes.

“Khalid?” Sylvain repeats, not as heavily accented as Claude had feared. The question is on his face as much as it is in his words.

“It’s my real name.”

“What?”

“You can keep calling me Claude. After all, I got really used to hearing it when we were at Garreg Mach and while I led the Alliance.”

Emotions that Claude could not identify flit across Sylvain’s face.

“What do you want me to call you?” He asks, staring deep into Claude’s eyes.

Claude thinks about it. Really ponders what the names mean to him and where Sylvain fits into that picture.

“Claude.” He finally decides, nodding at Sylvain. “You met me as Claude-“

“That isn’t a reason to keep going by Claude if you don’t-“ Sylvain interrupts but Claude waves him quiet.

“No, Sylvain. I want something that reminds me of Fodlan. My mother is gone and as much as I truly and deeply love Almyra, I love Fodlan too. My father gave me Khalid. My mother’s family gave me Claude. Someone should still use it, and who better than you.”

Several more unidentifiable emotions race across Sylvain’s face before he softens into a light smile.

“Alright, Claude. I can do that for you.”

And maybe there isn’t a unified Fodlan, but for that moment, Claude has a little glimmer of something near hope.

Claude is on his third orgasm. Third.

All he can do is keep pounding into Sylvain as the redhead whimpers and moans for more, softening up by the second. But Sylvain’s cock is still red and angry and all the tricks Claude has tried to get him out of his head, have clearly not worked.

“Sylvain. I can’t keep going. I seriously need a break.”

“Please, Claude. Please-“

“Sylvain,” Claude chides, shaking his head. This is the third time we’ve tried to do this tonight and I am seriously exhausted. This is the fifth time this week we’ve tried. We need to do something differently.”

“Like what,” Sylvain answers, hopelessness bleeding into his voice.

“I have a plan. But do you trust me?”

“More than anyone alive.”


	4. Bells

It did not take Claude too long to find everything he needed. Sure, the leathersmith had looked at him suspiciously. But they were paid well, so Claude figured his secret would be safe.

Now it was time to go over everything with Sylvain.

Claude lays it all out on the bed, Sylvain’s expression going from intrigued to concerned as the items continue to present themselves. Sylvain reaches out to touch the soft leather of the blindfold, but gives the rest of it a suspicious glance.

“Listen, I like to think I’m kinkier than the average, but what the fuck is all of this?”

On the bed lies a thick blindfold, something Sylvain cannot identify, he’s pretty sure those are some sort of cuffs, ear muffs maybe, and several bottles of lube. A candle, some ornate nipple clamps, a butt plug that has runes of some kind on it, and a small shiny bell.

“Alright, Sylvie. I have a plan to get you to orgasm.”

“Okay…”

“Sensory deprivation and overstimulation.”

This gets no verbal reply, just the lift of one eyebrow.

“Listen,” Claude sucks in a breath. “You have to trust me. Completely. You’re caught in your own head, in your own grief. You need a way to get out of that headspace.”

Sylvain diverts his gaze to the ground, eyes locked in some middle distance. There is a pensive air to his shoulders, lip grinding between his teeth.

He doesn’t allow it to continue though, caressing Sylvain’s face back to look at him.

“You didn’t actually orgasm by yourself, did you?”

Sylvain gives a short shake of his head, no.

“Do you want to be able to orgasm again?”

“I do.”

“I think this can help, Sylvie. Give it all to me. Let me remove any opportunity for you to think. Let me remove all of it.”

The two of them share a charged moment, Sylvain searching Claude’s expression for any source of doubt.

“If it gets to be too much… How do I… Tell you to stop.”

Claude gives Sylvain a soft smile and picks up the bell, shoving into Sylvain’s hands.

“This. You’ll have your hands, though I will bind your wrists. If things get to be too much, just drop the bell. I will remove the gag immediately and then undo the rest of the scene so as to not hurt you.”

Sylvain rolls the bell around in his hand, the gentle clink of the ball inside as it hits the sides.

“I trust you, Claude.”

“Let me take care of you.”

Claude moves slowly, gives Sylvain time to see each piece, to know how it will be used on his body. The candle is lit and set aside, the room’s only other light the glow of the moon through the windows.

The first thing he holds up are the cuffs, gesturing for Sylvain to turn around. They had both discarded all of their clothing to make things easier, for Claude to echo a little of Sylvain’s vulnerability.

“These will keep your wrists bound, but won’t constrict your hands. Until I gag you, I would ask that you verbally tell me if something is too much.” With care, Claude moves Sylvain’s arms behind his back, clasping one half of the cuffs to one wrist, overlapping the other wrist on top, and clasping the other half as well. He slides a finger into both constrictions, making sure they are not too tight.

“I can do that,” Sylvain answers softly.

“Roll your shoulders for me. That feel alright?”

“Yes.”

“Move your wrists up and down. Flex your fingers. Nothing feels too restricted?”

“No,” He sighs, letting his eyes drift closed.

“Lay on your stomach for me, please,” The request is accompanied by a gentle touch at Sylvain’s shoulder, an offer to assist with his movement since his hands are now bond.

Sylvain obeys silently, allowing Claude to guide him down onto his stomach. Claude analyzes the image in front of him before giving a quick shake of his head.

“Okay, I need to prop you up some. Stay still while I gather some more cushions.”

After a few moments of gathering supplies, Claude makes a proper pillowy pile, enough that Sylvain can properly be supported while bending at the waist. They make some further adjustments before Sylvain settles against the cushion, ass exposed to the open air.

“Beautiful,” Claude whispers, running a hand down Sylvain’s thighs, delighting in the shudder the motion creates.

“I’m going to prepare your ass for the plug. This butt plug is a rune-controlled vibrating plug. I won’t be turning it on until you are completely deprived of your senses. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Sylvain wiggles his ass a little, clearly wanting to lighten Claude’s serious tone. In response, Claude only lightly slaps his ass, hardly enough to even make a sound.

“Please, I know you can hit hard-“

Thee words are cut off as Claude smacks Sylvain’s ass much harder, earning a sharp inhale of breath from the redhead.

“That’s more like it,” Sylvain mumbles, wiggling his hips just a little to show he enjoyed it. “I like a little roughhousing.”

“Oh,” Claude whispers, grazing the red marks on Sylvain’s ass with reverence. “I know. And I have so, so much more planned for you.”

A shiver trails through Sylvain’s body, his breath hitching slightly in his throat. He looks over his shoulder to watch as Claude pops open the lube, spreading the liquid across his fingers.

One finger gingerly enters Sylvain and the man below him sighs almost dramatically.

“Your majesty, are you intending to just tease me to death? Because believe me, I’ve tried all sorts of edging-“

“Sylvain,” Claude scolds, teasing his hole with a second finger. “Let me take my time with you. Don’t fight me, just trust me. Be still. Enjoy it.”

“You could at least let me have my hands so I can touch myself at the same time,” Sylvain grumbles, still keeping eye contact with Claude over his shoulder.

No verbal reply escapes Claude’s lips as he slowly adds the second finger. A quiet, “ah” passes Sylvain’s lips, but otherwise he just kneels there, eyelids fluttering softly.

“You’re so pretty, Sylvain. Body pliant under my hands-“

Some sort of cry breaks free from Sylvain’s lips, but it’s hard to say if it was caused by the praise or by Claude finding Sylvain’s sweet spot inside. 

“There you go, Sylvain. Just enjoy yourself. I want to make you feel good. I want to hear what your voice sounds like past your breaking point.”

“Ha-ah,” Sylvain gasps, another huff of air as Claude adds another finger.

“I won’t be fucking you tonight, Sylvie. But your hole is so perfect. So accepting, accommodating.” He pumps his fingers in and out, admiring how Sylvain seems to almost suck them back in. “I can’t wait to have you again… Feel your tight ass around me, begging for more-“

“Claude, Claude-“

In response, Claude pulls his fingers free, tsking twice. “Now, now, I’m the one in charge here. Sometime later you can call the shots, but darling, tonight you are all mine.” He pours more of the lube over the plug and positions it at Sylvain’s hole. “Are you ready for the plug?”

“Please,” passes Sylvain’s lips in a breathy sigh.

Claude grants his wish, slowly pressing the plug inside. Even with the lovely gasp from Sylvain, Claude still checks in.

“Feel alright?”

“It feels great, goddess-dammit. I think I’m going to die from all of this teasing.”

With an irritable cluck, Claude turns on the vibrator at the lowest setting.

“Oh fuck-“ Sylvain babbles out, jerking forward as the vibrations pulse through him. Quiet gasps escape him as he finally turns from watching Claude to put his head on his stack of pillows.

“Alright, Sylvain, how are your arms and hands? Still comfortable? No straining?”

“I am pretty sure that you’re trying to kill me right now, but yeah, my arms are doing great,” He flexes his fingers and rolls his arms a little to show he’s fine.

This comment Claude opts to ignore. “I’m going to blindfold you now. Ready?”

“Man asks if I’m ready. Has my fucking hands tied and a plug up my ass,” Sylvain mumbles. “Yes. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. I just want you to fuck me, already-“

Claude leans over him and secures the blindfold while another grumpy huff passes Sylvain’s lips.

“And the gag now. You know to drop the bell if anything should become too much, right?”

“Yes, Claude,” Sylvain replies sarcastically, as if answering an annoying teacher.

It earns him a little swat to the ass. “Take me seriously, Sylvain. Is it okay to gag you now?”

“Yes, Claude,” He repeats, this time dialing down the sarcasm.

“Thank you,” Claude secures this over Sylvain’s mouth, watching him bite down on the bit that holds it in place. “Is that comfortable?”

To be a smart ass, Sylvain tries to reply with some trite comment; it comes out as mumbled garbage.

“Sylvain…”

“Mm hmm,” Sylvain finally manages from deep in his throat.

“Good boy.” He whispers, trailing a hand down Sylvain’s thighs noticing the light tightening of Sylvain’s muscles as he does. “You’re so good Sylvain. I’m going to do everything in my power to make you feel so good. I want to hear you scream. I want to watch you break apart and I want to put you back together.”

“You know you’re a good man, don’t you?”

A sharp whine cuts through the silence of the room, Sylvain almost recoiling from all the praise.

“That’s right. You’ve done everything you can. You protected your friends.”

A noises that sounds like dissent escapes Sylvain, shaking his head as if to dispel these words.

“Oh, but you did. You loved them and protected them with all your might. And when they were taken from you, you honored their memory by living. Here you are, alive and thriving. For them and for yourself.” Claude gives as squeeze to Sylvain’s ass, smiling to himself softly. The breaths are coming quick out of Sylvain’s nose, unable to huff them from his mouth. “You should forgive yourself, Sylvain. Let yourself move on. Live your life only for yourself now.”

There’s a stream of odd sounds from Sylvain, probably something to argue this point, but his hands clasp tighter around the bell as if he is subconsciously inviting Claude to continue.

“So kind and smart. Beautiful, too. I’ve loved watching you improve with our dancers. And this,” He runs a finger over a pierced nipple. “Was so cute and so extra. But very sexy of you Sylvain. You’re so eager to please, Sylvain, when was the last time you let someone please you?”

This question earns no reply, just an odd hitching of Sylvain’s breath. The strange sound continues until Claude realizes that he’s crying.

“Sylvain, do we need to stop?” He asks, gently tapping the bell in Sylvain’s grip.

Sylvain’s grip tightens around it, refuses to let go. Claude trails the finger down to Sylvain’s plugged ass, realizing he had left it vibrating this whole time. Bypassing that, he reaches around and caresses Sylvain’s half-hard cock.

“I promised to take care of you, Sylvain. And I will. Just let me. Just trust me.”

And with that, Sylvain goes limp almost. The tension bleeds from his body.

“I’ve got you. You’re mine now. No one else’s.” He begins to slowly work over Sylvain’s cock, pumping ever so slowly. After a quick tweak to Sylvain’s nipples, Claude turns up the vibrator just a little.

Sylvain lets out a high-pitched squeak of surprise, but it quickly turns into soft pants of pleasure. Claude fondles the bar in Sylvain’s nipple, pressing himself against his ass and back, wanting to feel the shudders passing through Sylvain’s body.

“Show me all that you have, Sylvain. Bare it all for me.” He pulls out all the stops now, reaching over to snag a nipple clamp and attaching it to the nipple he had been bothering earlier. Writhing motion over takes Sylvain, an unmistakable moan cutting the air. Claude doesn’t wait, quickly attaching the other, a scream following the moan. Sylvain can’t communicate in any other way, but his hands quiver around the bell.

“You’re doing so well, Sylvain. You can handle it. Just give into it.” The hand on Sylvain’s cock squeezes roughly for a moment and Claude once more turns up the vibrator’s power.

Noise is just pouring out of Sylvain, huffing breaths from his nose, a slight quiver across his body.

“Can you come for me, Sylvain?”

Suddenly Sylvain is sobbing, the bell creaking in his grip, furiously fighting himself for control. 

“Sylvain. Stop thinking so hard. Just finish, let go-“

The bell falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank the story “learning to give” by unraelated for inspiring me for the use of the bell in this chapter.  
> I hadn’t thought of it before reading their story and it fits so perfectly for a scene where you cannot otherwise talk or tap out.  
> I sincerely hope I haven’t overstepped by using this idea in my own story.
> 
> Hopefully you’re enjoying the story :) I appreciate comments! Thank you for reading.


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